A MIDNIGHT VISITOR The same dark canoe that Harriet Burrell had seen shoot out into the lake before her the night she was reconnoitering near the camp of the Tramp Club was now hovering about the houseboat.

It would have appeared almost uncanny to one not experienced in canoeing to observe the absolute noiselessness with which the frail little craft was propelled about the larger boat.

When it was turned, it was as though the boat were swinging on a pivot.

When the half of its length was let down to the water after such a swing, there followed not the slightest suggestion of a splash.
Lulled by the gentle lapping of the water against the side of the boat, the Meadow-Brook Girls slept soundly.

On shore the boys of the Tramp Club also were sleeping.